THE WRECKED STAGE.
John Craig takes all the precautions that the courier mentions, for he
does not care to awaken in the night and find a dark-faced fanatic of a
Mohammedan in his room, sworn to accomplish his death.
Perhaps his safety is in part due to this; at any rate morning comes and
finds him undisturbed.
When he descends from his room he has a vague hope that some word may
have come from Ben Taleb.
In this respect he is doomed to disappointment, for there is no letter.
So another day of waiting begins. The doctor is determined by nature,
and has made up his mind that he will not give up his mission until he
has accomplished that which he set out to perform, no matter if he
spends weeks in the African city at the foot of the hills known as
Sahel.
The others join him by degrees.
Such charming weather; a dozen trips for the day are proposed and
rejected. All conclude to wait until after breakfast, when they will be
in a condition to discuss the matter and decide just what is best to be
done.
John is ready to join them and see the sights, for there is a chance
that he may in this way run across the one he seeks, if she be moving
about the city on errands of mercy, as becomes her order.
Besides, he places considerable dependence upon the promise of the old
Moor.
So he enters into the discussion with assumed vigor, being magnetized
now by the blue eyes of Lady Ruth.
They ask the advice of Mustapha Cadi, and he promises to show them many
queer sights before the sun sinks behind the hills and the boom of the
gun in the fortress announces the close of another day.
Thus, all of them prepare for a day's outing, and Lady Ruth looks quite
charming in her jaunty costume, especially suited for such business.
John no longer remembers the dazzling beauty of the Moorish girl who
sat at the feet of old Ben Taleb on the preceding night; it could not
compare with the vivacious intelligence of an educated girl coming from
the countries beyond the seas.
First of all they mount the terraces of Mustapha Superieur and enjoy
the magnificent view of the city and harbor. Many modern yachts lie
upon the blue waters, side by side with strange vessels peculiar to the
Mediterranean, while the incoming steamer from Oran is just entering the
harbor.
Upon this ridge above the city lie numerous palatial residences now
occupied by French and English families, but which were once owned by
the pirate kings of Algiers, whose names may often be found upon the
gate post, cut in letters of gold.
From this eyrie they scanned the sea with their glasses, and the
appearance of a sail in the dim distance would be the signal for a mad
chase to see which piratical felucca could first overhaul the stranger.
Uncle Sam had something to do with breaking up this tremendous pirates'
den, and France has since redeemed it.
Thus a considerable portion of the morning is consumed in this pleasant
engagement. They take an omnibus now for the Arab village of Birkadeen,
in among the hills, where new and novel sights will be looked upon.
Every female they meet arouses John's interest, and he looks sharply at
the half-hidden face. The hope he cherishes is always before him, and
when Lady Ruth notices his eager actions she understands just what it
means, and is as anxious in one way as himself.
One thing annoys the American; this is the persistence with which Sir
Lionel keeps up as a member of the little company. He makes himself
agreeable all around, and as John has had no proof of the Briton's
miserable work in the harbor of Malta, he is wise enough to restrain his
feelings and hold his tongue, trusting to some future event to tear off
the mask and reveal him in his true colors.
At noon they are in the village, and stop to eat their lunch at an Arab
tavern, where they fare pretty well, though John is ready to make a vow
never to again touch the native dish of Kuskusu which is set before
them.
They see strange things at Birkadeen, and from there continue their
journey to other villages, Bermandries, and El-Biar, at each of which
Mustapha has something odd to show them that will ever remain a pleasant
memory in the future.
It is a day John Craig will never forget for more reasons than one; a
day marked with a white stone because of the pleasure he enjoys in the
society of this bright English girl whom he has ere now learned to love,
and a day that must always remain prominent in his mind because it
precedes a night that is the most memorable in all his history.
In more ways than one does Lady Ruth, while always acting as a lady,
show that she prefers his society to that of Sir Lionel, and though the
British soldier appears unruffled on the surface, he is undoubtedly
deeply piqued.
So the hours wear on.
The sun is low in the west, and the ever watchful Mustapha declares it
is time they started for the city. They have enjoyed a ride on the ship
of the desert, as the camel is called, admired the Arabian steeds, which
all the money of an unbeliever or Christian dog could not purchase, and
looked upon many strange scenes.
Several times during the afternoon they have been temporarily separated.
The baronet appears to have a deep interest in the queer things to be
seen in the Arab village, for more than once he lingers behind to ask
questions as he explains, in the hope of purchasing some article that
has particularly caught his fancy.
John never once suspects that Sir Lionel may have another motive in his
actions.
When Mustapha announces that it is time they return, they look around
for the vehicle which was to take them back, but strangely enough it
does not appear.
As the minutes pass Mustapha grows exceedingly impatient. He has
arranged matters to suit their convenience, and this delay is annoying.
It does not suit him to return at night.
Just as patience ceases to be a virtue, and the guide has announced his
intention of finding some other means of transportation, they discover
the omnibus coming into view from beyond the thicket of cactus and aloe.
It has been carrying a load of villagers from their homes to the high
hills of Bouzaveah, to the native cemetery which crowns the summit.
Then they suddenly remember that it is Friday, or the Mohammedan Sunday,
on which day great throngs repair to the grave-yards and visit the tombs
of the _marabouts_ or saints, gazing upon some ancient relic which the
departed wore in his life-time, and which on account of its disreputable
condition no respectable European would touch.
They have the omnibus to themselves, which, of course, pleases them.
John shakes his head dubiously as he enters the vehicle. He has glanced
at its condition, and declares they will be lucky indeed to reach
Algiers without a break-down.
The driver has been scored by Mustapha for his tardiness, and appears to
feel the sting of the reproach, for no sooner are they seated in the old
vehicle than he uses his whip with some vim, the horses start away, and
they head for the city.
When the road is smooth it is all very good, but after leaving Birkadeen
they will strike a rough section that must try the staying powers of the
wretched vehicle.
As they whirl through Birkadeen in a cloud of dust, with several mangy
curs howling at the heels of the steaming horses, it is just sunset.
There is no mosque here with its minaret, from which the _muezzin_
chants his call to prayer, but the faithful do not need such a summons,
and can be seen here and there prostrating themselves on the ground with
faces toward the holy city.
One grows accustomed to such spectacles when traveling in oriental
countries where Mohammed is looked upon as the great prophet of Allah,
and the novelty inspired by the first sight dies away.
After leaving the Arab village they strike the rough section of the road.
It would be natural to suppose that the driver has by this time gotten
over his anger at being chided by Mustapha, and might moderate his pace,
out of respect to his antiquated vehicle, if not the safety of those who
occupy it.
Not so.
If anything, as darkness steals over the scene, he uses his whip with
greater energy, and his voice urges on the sweating horses.
Now they have it surely.
The ruts in the road cause the vehicle to bounce from side to side, and
those inside are tossed about much like rubber balls.
At first they are disposed to treat it as a joke, and laugh over the
ludicrous situation, but as it increases, their sufferings begin.
The dust is disagreeable, the jolting actually dangerous, as they are
shot from one side of the vehicle to the other with tremendous force.
Besides, John is in momentary expectation of the rickety affair breaking
down and spilling them all out on the roadway.
Indeed, he is surprised that this accident has been so long delayed.
He shouts to the driver to slacken the pace, but evidently the fellow
fails to hear. Then he puts his head out of the window and once more
elevates his voice, but the rattle of the plunging vehicle, together
with the noise made by the driver himself, as he shouts at his steeds
like a crazy Bedouin, combine to deaden all other sounds.
At any rate there is no result.
John has by this time become excited; they are mounting a little
elevation, and temporarily their pace is reduced. Once at the top and
a long slant lies beyond, down which they must go at lightning speed.
It is now or never.
He is bound to stop this mad race against time if he has to climb to the
top of the swaying vehicle and toss the reckless driver off.
It is with this intention before him that he bids the ladies hold on
with all their power, while he seeks an interview with the fellow who
handles the ribbons.
Then he seizes the window-frame, intending to get hold of something
above which will serve as a fulcrum to move his body.
It is just at this interesting moment that the expected event occurs.
There is a sudden, tremendous shock, as they strike some obstacle;
shrieks from the women, a swaying of the coach, which immediately falls
over on one side.
A wheel has come off.
They are wrecked among the hills, and a considerable distance from
Algiers, the lights of which illumine the heavens beyond.
"Is anyone injured?" calls out John, with some anxiety in his voice, for
the shock has been quite serious.
They are all in a confused heap in the corner that is down, and the
professor is the first to crawl out.
Then comes Lady Ruth, excited, but, thank Heaven, uninjured.
They help Sir Lionel out. He limps around, feeling his left leg and
groaning a little as even the bravest of men may do on occasions, and
hoping the pain he feels is nothing serious.
Aunt Gwen alone remains, and there is heard no sound from her. The
usually vociferous voice seems to have been utterly hushed.
"Oh! is she dead?" exclaims the young girl, with horror in her voice, as
Doctor Chicago and the professor carry Aunt Gwen out.
"I trust not. I think she has only fainted. Can you lift one of the
cushions from the wreck, Lady Ruth, and we will place her upon it here."
She shows immediate animation instead of going into hysterics, as many
girls would do under the circumstances, and flies to assist to the
extent of her ability.
Thus Aunt Gwen is soon in a comfortable position, and the doctor starts
to bring her to, for he believes she has only swooned.
This he soon accomplishes, and when she is able to declare that she is
not in pain, only badly broken up by the shock, he feels that it is time
he turned his attention to another quarter.
They are in a bad fix, wrecked several miles from their destination.
Darkness has now set in.
John rises from his knees and takes in the situation. It is evident that
something must be done in order that they may be rescued from their
unpleasant position.
Where are Mustapha and the driver? Both of them have utterly vanished in
the most mysterious manner. Who, then, will mount one of the panting
horses and ride back to Birkadeen for succor?
"Let me go?" says Sir Lionel, staggering forward, and clutching an
olive tree for support.
John sees his weak state.
"You are not in a condition to go. Stay here and protect the ladies, for
it is a lonely place, and there may be wild animals in these woods, who
knows?" With which words the young American throws himself on the
horse's back and urges the animal along over the road they have
traveled, followed by the anxious eyes of Lady Ruth.